Creaking back and forth, the ship strongly plows through the water. Though hypnotic, the rhythmic rise and fall has failed to calm the agitated state of the two male passengers.

In a terse voice, the pale-skinned elothean says, "He must see us. This information is dangerous to us all."

Conciliatory in manner, the dark-skinned human shrugs, "The Lord may or may not. He is often preoccupied. However, he has chosen to address those he has Anointed on occasion. Perhaps he will choose to do so again today."

The short exchange is quickly interrupted as a dark blot appears on the horizon, resembling a black and ever-growing stain. As they near the black basalt rocks, a graveyard of ships and dangerous reefs stand sentinel to the foreboding island.

Having nothing else to say, the passengers debark from the ship and waste little time enjoying the desolate landscape. The terrain blurs by, the two men no strangers to the dangers hiding amongst this no-man's land. Finally, they reach and pass through a simple wooden gate, entering into the small fishing village. They are welcomed by a series of haphazard shanties, mostly abandoned, crowding each side of the street. However, the eye is instantly drawn to a large castle-like manor looming on a cliff above the village. The two men take a moment to collect themselves, to steel their minds against a distinct foreboding before they approach the steep stairs leading from the village to the manor and begin to ascend.

The climb is arduous. The stairway railing is made of femur bones too large to be from any of the mortal races. Whole skeletons are used as macabre decoration. After some time climbing, the stairway ends at a massive wrought-iron gate decorated with a stylized symbol. The two men quickly enter the manor and are met by a hooded figure in black who escorts them directly to the throne room and whispers words of advice on etiquette before melting into the shadows.

The throne room is a long arched hallway. Sitting upon a dais is a throne carved from pure obsidian. A huge circular purple and black stained-glass window rises behind the dais, casting eerie patterns across the throne.

Seated upon the throne is an imposing figure, heavily armored and too large to identify what race he could have been. Black ichor drips from cruelly pointed teeth. His eyes, pitch black pits with an unnatural glow, seem to pierce straight to the souls of the two men, crucifying them where they stand. After a few moments of stillness, they quickly approach the dais and kneel before their Lord, the Lich Jeihrem.

The figure opens his mouth, his desiccated maw, and with a voice that resonates through the hall, intones, "Speak what I should know, while I allow it."

The elothean man looks up and begins to explain in detail the things that have been discovered and the dangers he sees in the future. As he concludes, he gestures at the human man. The Lich shifts his gaze, focusing those hellish eyes on the dark-skinned man.

The human lowers his head and produces a silver piece of jewelry with a gem and begins to speak. His voice seems small in the cavernous hallway. All the while, the Lich's eyes continue to pierce him to the floor, unblinking. After some time, the human concludes, quickly secreting away the piece of jewelry once more.

The Lich draws a sharp fingernail against his cheek, drawing forth a deep ichor. He flicks a few droplets toward the elothean's forehead, asking, "And what will you do about this?"

The two men give each other one sidelong glance before the human details his plans.

As his only response, the Lich intones, "Destroy what needs destroyed. You have your path. I have mine. Perhaps they are one and the same?"

At this, the hooded figure in black materializes and pulls them from the throne room, barring their entry back in. The Audience is ended.